Snippets of an Everyday Life
by Prestidigitations
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is the captain of the of infamous Change of Heart, Alfred F. Jones is a portside mechanic with a dream...A Us/Uk Steampunk AU


**Hello everyone, I hope you enjoy this; if you were waiting on _Moonlighting_ the next chapter is comming I promise. I'd like to take this moment to give thanks to everyone who helped me with this and give a speacial shout-out to Haro, whose Steamfic _You Can't Take the Sky from Me _is the original and in my opinion the best in the genre; she's my total inspiration!**

**Feel free to leave a review**

**thanks, **

**-Presto**

* * *

"It's no good."

"What do you mean it's no good!"

"I mean she's too badly hit, she'll have to go down for repairs or she'll never fly again."

Not for the first time in his life Arthur Kirkland sighed and cursed his luck. He kicked his ship's engine petulantly, wincing at the indignant groan it emitted in return and ran a hand through his singed hair.

"There's a port two days from here," He said coming to a decision. "Can we make it?" His weapon's specialist shifted uncomfortably at the question. Vash was no airship mechanic by any stretch of the imagination; he didn't like the idea of their lives hanging on his educated guess.

"If we cut off both stabilizers and lighten the load we might be able to make it." He mumbled reluctantly. "I think." Arthur nodded stiffly and clapped him on the shoulder on his way out of the engine room. His self-appointed first mate Francis was waiting for him just outside the door.

"So what is the verdict, _mon cher_? He asked as soon as he came into view.

"She's going down," Arthur snapped, weaving past him on his way through the dark corridors to the bridge. "She doesn't have much time left."

"_Magnifique_, shall I tell the crew to start panicking now or would you prefer they not know until after you make your moving speech about going down with her?" He inquired matching his pace down the hall.

"She just needs to land and make repairs," Arthur said tersely, "Finish clearing the deck and tell Roderich to get his ass down here, get Vash too if he's not still busy." He ignored the Frenchman's indignant sputters as he slammed the door in his face and sank heavily into the nearest available chair.

"It's bad news then," Elizaveta stated looking up from where she and Lili were applying something to the cracks in the glass. "But we're still in the air so how bad could it be?" Arthur buried his face in his hands and groaned with his ship.

"That bad, huh?" She chuckled. Arthur was extremely grateful when she went back to her repairs and said nothing more about it. Clearly whatever they were doing was helping because the draft wasn't anywhere near as dreadful as it had been and the cracks weren't widening further.

There weren't very many crews that had women among their ranks as they were believed to be bad luck but Arthur's had two, and he was glad to have them. Liz worked as hard as any man and Vash's little sister, Lili, was clever and useful in a pinch. It was her idea to plug up the glass saying something about women's stockings or some -such.

"W-we're not going to fall out of the sky are we Captain?" She asked shyly. Arthur looked up and attempted a smile to comfort her.

"Of course not love," He said in as gentle a tone as he could manage. "The _Heart_'s a good ship, she's never let us down before and she won't now." Elizaveta put an arm around her shoulder and smiled appreciatively at him over the young girl's head.

"See? The captain says everything's alright, there's nothing to worry about," She turned them both to face him and gave a mock salute. "We're all done here, 'sir', so with your permission we'd like to go get started on lunch."

"Permission granted," Arthur stated unable to keep from rolling his eyes at her antics. "Off with you then." Lili gave him a much more formal salute (she'd no doubt learned it from her brother) and followed the older girl down to the galley. Francis and Roderich reappeared just then with Vash in tow. They all smiled at Lili as she walked past but pushed into the bridge with much graver faces.

"What else is wrong?" Arthur snapped as they gathered fallen chairs and sat at the controls.

"The railings on the portside of the upper decks were blown off, we suffered damage to the rear boiler, the canvas on the fourth and seventh tiles have lost at least two layers and all our additional fuel fell when you pulled that last turn-" Francis ticked off on his fingers.

"-Plus the boiler's caused flooding on the third deck," Vash pointed out.

"-And Gilbert, and Antonio, have severe burns," Roderich added.

"-Which reminds me that Kiku is all out of bandages," Francis finished flatly.

Arthur scowled and looked out at the horizon. Sometimes he wished he were anything _but_ captain of this creaking tub.

"Is there any good news?" He sighed. It was weeks like these that made Arthur really hate this life. The _Heart_ seemed to have run into a string of bad luck. First they had been caught in a storm and blown off course, then they had run into a couple of imperial flyboys and had been caught in a chase, and now the engines had stopped running.

"We got out alive." His crewmates replied in unison.

"And Lovino stole the military trade map." Vash stated.

"Which should sell for enough to pay for the damages," Roderich mused. "If we can sell it before they notice its absence."

"_Tout va bien_," Francis noted, "Despite the fact that everything has 'gone to fucking hell' as you so charmingly put it this morning." They sat in silence while Arthur mulled over their reports.

"The nearest port is in the Old Colony territory," He mused aloud. "The separatists don't take well to the empire's soldiers so we should be able to refuel and make repairs without being noticed." His crewmen nodded in agreement.

"I'll go get started on what repairs I can." Vash said rising from his chair. They watched him go in silence.

"So what now?" Francis asked when he was gone.

"Go tell the others that there's a meeting on the top deck in an hour." Arthur replied. "Everyone who can come must."

"Ah, the captain's tearful farewell speech at last." Francis teased.

"_**Now**_ Francis," Arthur snapped clearly not in the mood.

"_Comme vous le souhaitez mon_ _capitaine_." Francis chuckled as he made for the door.

"I assume," Roderich said after he had closed it behind him, "that I have been asked stay behind for something more specific than repairs."

"Yes," Arthur replied and he stood from his chair to direct the ship to its new course. "I need to know how much extra money we'll have left over after we make the necessary repairs." Roderich raised an eyebrow at his question.

"Is there something you have in mind, Captain?" He asked. Arthur looked out once more to the horizon.

"Yes, It's about time we made some changes around here, don't you think?"

**33**3**33**

Arthur hadn't always been a pirate. In fact, ten years before he never would have dreamed he'd live this sort of lifestyle. Arthur Kirkland had started out life as the youngest son of a wealthy British aristocrat. He'd had his whole life planned out for him before he was ever even born and had been perfectly content to carry out his family's wishes and do what he could to serve the empire.

Then he met Gabriel and everything about the life he had been living seemed a waste. Gabe's father was an officer in the imperial navy, they had been to places Arthur had only read about in books and filled his dull word with colour, light and spontaneity. They could never agree on much of anything beside the fact that they loved each other, but that was more than enough. He could never remember being happier in all his life.

Naturally, when their parents found out they were forced to flee (the empire submitted people like them to a reconditioning program that few survived or ever escaped from) but they managed to make off with enough money to live comfortably while they decided what to do with the rest of their lives.

They had been so young and brimming with optimism. Arthur finished his studies in aeronautics while his lover went on to study aviation and eventually came to love the hulking sky ships that were the pride of the empire. Arthur still remembered the day he arrived at their flat in London to find that Gabe had blown their entire savings on the burnt out shell of a military transport carrier. The fight had been epic and he'd stormed out, afraid and unsure of the life Gabe had wanted for them in the sky.

Arthur had been resolved to leave Gabe, but had a last minute change of heart when he saw the massive ship for the first time. He was in love all over again. With Gabe, with the sky, and with the ancient carrier Gabe dubbed the _Change of Heart_ in honour of his decision to stay with him. They got it working in less than a year and acquired a title to fly it as a merchant vessel shortly thereafter.

The following year was the best of life; Arthur continued his work with aeronauics aboard the ship while Gabe constantly toyed and tinkered with what made her fly, at night they made love under the stars and whispered promises of adventure in the coming future.

They met Kiku at a port hospital after Arthur got sick eating something Gabe told him not to and saved Francis from a hanging not long after that. They saved Gabe's cousin Antonio from drowning in the ruins of a Spanish airship within days after finally allowing Francis to stay.

Suddenly their quiet romantic life wasn't quite what it once was. They started to acquire other outcasts and exiles, good people with bad pasts and nowhere else to go. It was hard for them to turn a blind eye when they were outsiders themselves. Their little family keep growing, and merchant ship so full of unmentionables and fugitives was bound to attract the notice of the empire eventually; the addition of a former Swiss mercenary and the girl he'd been passing off as his brother was enough to get them to start looking into them.

Nothing would ever erase the horror of the night they were boarded from his memory. He could still hear the screams and feel the confusion and terror of being yanked from his lover's embrace in the dead of night and forced from their bedroom up to the top deck. He could hear the jeers and catcalls of the soldiers and their taunts as they were torn fighting from each other's arms. At night in his empty bed he could hear the gunshot on the deck as clearly as he did that night and feel the cold nothingness of grief consume him mind, body, and soul as it had at some point every day after.

Grief is a funny thing; it can lead you to brazen, insane acts such as fighting off an imperial warship in an old carrier vessel and watching ten more like it burn to the ground when you crash it into a military compound in search of your friends. It can convince you to gather everything of value and sell it to fix up your lover's battered dream and somehow make you do it again and again. It can make you pick up the remnants of your old life, make you keep going, turn you into the most feared pirate to ever sail the sky, and it can do it all while you're not looking. So that suddenly you are no longer a wide-eyed boy sailing around the world with the man you love and your extended family; you are a fugitive on the run from the law on a worn war machine and in charge of a crew of pirates.

Four years after the death of his lover Arthur wasn't quite sure how they came to be the world's most wanted crew, but he certainly wasn't about to stop and find out. Not when they were hunted like animals by the empire's warships and they barely escaped with their lives as they had only days before.

Now Arthur called all his crew together; the rag–tag troupe wasn't much but they were all he had (not that he would ever tell them that).

He looked from face to familiar face: Francis, a French conman and petty thief whose lecherous nature got him into more trouble that he was really worth; Roderich, a once famous Austrian musician wrongly accused of being a spy for the empire; his former maid and girlfriend Elizaveta, charged with treason after she had defended his house from police intrusion; Vash, a Swiss mercenary of wide acclaim who was forced to flee the country after he killed his partner; his adopted sister Lili who would've been destined for a hard life in the brothels if he hadn't found her; Gabe's cousin Antonio, a Spanish officer they rescued from drowning after an imperial ship destroyed his vessel; Lovino, whom Antonio had liberated from the Italian underworld; Gilbert, who was perhaps the only true pirate among them and had tagged along during the rescue four years ago; and Kiku the ship's medic and Arthur's oldest friend who had come along for his own reasons.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when he saw them all standing together. Pirates, prostitutes, diplomats, farmers and soldiers, people with little in common that all came from such different backgrounds; they had beaten the odds and survived in a world people said they had no right to be in.

"I'm glad you all could make it." Arthur stated nodding to Antonio and Gilbert in particular. They had been the most injured during the attack two days before.

"What's this about?" Lovino snapped. "Did you fix the engine?

"No, it's no use; we're going to need to dock for repairs," Arthur admitted. "We need to lighten the load if we're going to make it to port, the top decks are a mess so try not to get killed doing it." Everyone grumbled assent before going quiet when it became obvious their captain had more to say.

"I want to hire an engineer," He continued after a deep breath. "So this doesn't fucking happen again." This announcement was met with absolute stunned silence. Arthur frowned at his shocked crew.

"What?" He mumbled tetchily. "I can listen to reason, can't I? We need an engineer, don't we?" His crew traded nervous looks; no one wanted to be the one to broach the subject.

In truth the _Change of Heart_ hadn't had an engineer since Gabe's death four years before. The _Heart_ had been his baby and Arthur couldn't stand the thought of someone else meddling with his design, it was all he had left. A silent war was waged and eventually lost by Antonio who cleared his throat nervously and stepped forward.

"Arturo, are you sure that's what you want?" He asked cautiously. "We don't have to...if you're not ready..."

"Its fine," Arthur said stiffly. "It's what we need." No one argued with him.

"We should be able to find someone at Darthall," Elizaveta said thoughtfully referring to the largest London skyport. "That's where the academy is."

"We can't go to Darthall," Gilbert argued. "The empire's soldiers would be up our asses before we even got clearance to land."

"We'll try and find someone at the Old Colony port," Arthur snapped cutting off the impending argument before it could begin. "If not...we'll go to Singapore."

At the mention of Singapore everyone let out a cheer. Arthur rolled his eyes; they were getting to be more like real pirates with every year. He dismissed them to their duties and considered disappearing into the bridge for the rest of forever to avoid having to live up to the promise of delivering an engineer.

"It is very brave of you to do this Arthur-san," Kiku's words cut through the dark haze of his thoughts. "We are aware of how hard this is for you." The reserved Japanese man had no other duties besides tending his herbs and he and Arthur were now alone on the deck.

"I have to do this," Arthur sighed. "We can't keep pushing the ship without knowing her limits, we're fighting blind out there; -it makes everyone nervous."

"I'm sure Gabriel-san is very proud," Kiku stated with a slight smile. "You have put the other's needs before your own."

"I'm not doing this for them," Arthur scowled, blushing slightly. "I'm doing it for my ship."

"Of course Arthur-san," Kiku agreed. "It is as you say." He excused himself and went to see to his garden, leaving Arthur to his thoughts once more.

He certainly hoped this didn't blow up in his face; they couldn't do with any more bad luck.

**33**3**33**

They managed to limp into port almost three days later. Arthur only had to put a stop to two fights between Gilbert and Elizaveta and had only punished Lovino once for slacking off during that time. It was a new record. He hadn't even punched Francis in the face yet, things seemed to be looking better.

The Old Colony port was the oldest skyport in America dating back to when the Republic had still been a part of the Empire. It had originally been a bustling centre of trade, but after the budding nation had established itself as the jewel of the new word and the metropolitan ports of New York and Boston took to the air it had basically been deserted.

It was almost a law that all empty places belonged to the thieves and vagabonds of any given nation, and so the Colony port was overrun. It was now a dangerous place, crawling with cutthroats and prostitutes and rife with crime, the perfect place for pirates.

Arthur hadn't even needed to give a registry number or name for his ship. This was his sort of place he mused as they docked and waited for the harbour master to greet them. The fewer questions asked the better.

The harbour master was a tall reedy man with a cruel face and a sour disposition. It was obvious he suspected they were less than law abiding citizens from the moment they docked but a few pieces of silver convinced him to look the other way.

Francis was introduced as the captain since the separatists were naturally resentful of all citizens of the Empire, particularly the English, which Arthur couldn't deny he was without opening his mouth and giving it away.

He took down their weight and class designation while giving them the obligatory port safety speech and handed them off to a haggard looking slave to continue his work elsewhere.

Arthur wrinkled his nose in distaste. Slavery had been outlawed across the empire since before he was born. Never having been exposed to it in his native England he despised it for its unbearable cruelty. His crew looked less than pleased by the turn of events as well as most were from countries where it was highly uncommon if not illegal. For all that the separatists claimed to love liberty, the practice was terribly common within their republic; they were a contradictory lot to be sure.

Once that unpleasantness was behind them they were free to explore the port. Arthur split them into groups to cover more ground. After watching Vash, Antonio, Lovino, and Lili disappear into the crowd to look for supplies and sending Roderich, Elizaveta and Gilbert in search of an inn he gathered Francis and Kiku and went to find a mechanic.

"It is a small port Arthur-san," Kiku remarked as they pushed through the bustling crowds. "I do not know if they will be able to assist us."

"Even a place like this has to have someone to maintain the generators," Arthur replied. "They should be able to handle our repairs."

They searched for hours with no results and were forced to admit defeat and regroup with the rest of the crew at the ship at sunset and head over to the inn Roderich selected for them.

"We'll try again tomorrow." Elizaveta said comfortingly to Arthur's slumped, sullen form later that evening at the inn.

"How can there not be an engine mechanic on a bloody sky port?" Arthur grumbled picking at the half-eaten remains of his dinner. Francis rolled his eyes disparagingly at his behaviour and motioned for them to leave their captain to his sulking.

They did as they were told and headed to their prospective rooms for the night leaving Arthur downstairs with only Francis and Gilbert for company.

"Relax Kirky," The Prussian man smirked as he rescued Arthur's abused dinner. "I'll go back down to the docks tomorrow and ask around." Arthur glared at his combat specialist as he reached for his beer.

Gilbert was an odd one, unlike the rest of his crew they hadn't met until after Gabe's death. He had been in the adjacent cell to Arthur's and had come along when he made his escape. He was loud, rude and full of himself, stood out in a crowd with his salt white hair and red eyes, and was forever getting into trouble, but he had stuck by them, though Arthur wasn't quite sure why, and had earned their respect.

"We need to find someone quickly," He snapped pulling his drink safety out of the other man's reach. "We can't exactly afford to loiter around and I don't want to be stuck in this separatist cesspool any longer than I have to be."

"What's the matter boss, the Americans make you nervous?" Gilbert teased.

"Hardly." Arthur scoffed and downed the last of his beer. He pulled a face at the taste earning him a sympathetic look from the other man.

"This shit is weak," He nodded in agreement to Arthur's unspoken comment. "We should grab Antonio and find some real beer." Arthur and Francis perked up at the idea.

"_Cela semble merveilleux mon ami_," Francis agreed. "But you know how Arthur gets, its best we don't." Arthur scowled at their twin smirks and tried to hide his humiliated blush. It was no secret he could get a bit...carried away when it came to liquor.

"I can look after myself." He sniffed. "And I'll go, with or without you."

"Let him come Francis, he needs a little down time." Gilbert grinned getting up to fetch Antonio. "If we all go what's the worst that could happen?

**33**3**33**

Sometimes Arthur really hated this life.

He wasn't sure what had possessed him to tag along with his idiots when he should've gone to bed but he was certainly regretting the decision.

Everything ached; he opened his eyes blearily to find himself with a plain bedside table crowding his vision. A pair of simple spectacles rested atop it bathed in the weak morning sunlight along with a battered fob watch that was reading an obscenely early hour.

Arthur grumbled at the pounding in his head and turned away from the glasses to settle in the warm patch of bedding to the left of him snuggling comfortably under the well-worn sheets.

It took him a moment to realise that something was horribly, horribly wrong. He bolted upright and immediately regretted it as the sudden movement made his temples pound. He rubbed his aching head and attempted to regain his bearings.

He was naked he noted with a slight blush and lying in a rough-hewn bed in a small, sparsely furnished room. It was clean but cluttered with various tools and old machine parts.

Schematics and blueprints of flying machines of every imaginable shape and scope lined nearly every inch of wall space, and a soft musical sound like the tinkling of chimes could be heard from somewhere just out of sight. How the hell did he get here? Much more importantly where the hell were his bloody clothes?

He tried to recall with mounting panic what had happened the night before. He had gone out drinking: yes. They had hit all the pubs in the east end: also true. He had had a bit much to drink: details were fuzzy but that was highly probable. Things were a little blurry after that. He remembered being in a fight, the warmth of an embrace and easy laughter but things sort of faded out after a certain point.

The sound of bells growing louder brought him out of his daze and back to the present. What was that? He nearly jumped out of his skin shock when a young man ambled into view yawning loudly and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

He was tall and well built with bright blond hair that was rumpled from what he hoped was sleep; the chime sound was coming from the silver cuffs around each of his wrists that were lined with tiny bells. A slave then Arthur mused as he watched the young man putter mechanically around the room seemingly oblivious to him.

He reached for a shirt off the floor (another bad sign) and turned automatically to rummage through a battered chest at the foot of the bed pulling out a pair of thick leather gloves and reaching blindly for the matching boots beside the bed.

Arthur tentatively reached out and nudged them closer to his groping hand hoping to go unnoticed for at least a while longer. The young man made a small triumphant noise as he located them and stood to stretch. Arthur couldn't help but notice given the similarly shirtless state of his host that he was exceedingly fit. He blushed feeling slightly guilty at the thought but caught himself watching him all the same.

It was while he was admiring his well muscled back that he noted the large number four tattooed between his shoulder blades; the sight made his stomach drop in horror.

There was only one profession in the world that required tattooing of that nature, the implications of which were almost too awful to fathom.

The young man reached for his spectacles still seemingly on autopilot but stopped just short of them when he realised he was awake. They studied each other for a quiet moment.

The young man was a few years younger than himself (practically still a boy Arthur thought with a wash of guilt and shame) and handsome with soft rounded features and wide expressive eyes. His wheat blond hair and slightly tanned skin said he wasn't from around the port where raven locks and alabaster skin prevailed and his homespun clothes and leather gear spoke of a life of hard labour, despite that, he seemed to hold himself with all the easy grace and poise of an aristocrat.

Arthur followed the smooth line of his body up across his delicate face and found himself caught in his gaze, unable to let go.

He'd never seen eyes like his, an almost impossible blue, boundless and wild, like the sky above the ocean, they were open and curious and endlessly questioning. Something about them pulled him in and left him mesmerised.

The boy grinned, the expression lit up his whole face and made Arthur sort of dizzy (though that might've been the hangover) and abandoned his hunt for clothes to sit next to him on the bed.

"I didn't think you'd be awake," He laughed as he fiddled with one of his boots. "I figured you'd be out 'till at least noon." He had the broad flat accent associated with the colonies but there was something different about it Arthur couldn't quite place.

Arthur scooted as far away as the bed would allow more than somewhat alarmed. His host seemed not to notice and continued chatting amicably about hangovers and drink or some -such while Arthur just watched on in a daze unable to truly process what was happening.

He was naked in bed with a total stranger; he was _naked_ in _**bed**_ with a _**total**_ _**stranger**_, one whose company had probably cost him a fortune, and had likely not gone into this sort of profession by choice.

He tore himself away from that highly disturbing train of thought and turned his focus back to the young man who was still talking apparently unaware of his distress.

"-and that's why Miss Pepper says that drink's the devil," He chuckled. "Women are always up about temperance in these parts, I know. Still, the science is sound so there may be something to that huh?" He looked at Arthur expectantly.

He nodded warily in response hoping he hadn't missed something critically important. His host seemed satisfied with that and got up from the bed.

"Well, let's see here," He continued amiably, "Help yourself to whatever, there's no food but the water's hot if you want to shower. I'm not sure if I've got any extra towels though so you'll have to use mine." Arthur blushed red to ears and looked down. "You clothes should be dry by now but if they're not you can turn on the stove and toast 'em for a bit..." He paused for a moment and studied Arthur's expression.

"You have no idea what's going on do you?" He grinned. Arthur's blush deepened and his host laughed and flopped back down beside him on the bed.

"I've gotta know what you had to drink," He stated, "It must be amazing." He sat with his legs crossed before him still grinning and waited for him to say something.

Arthur cleared his throat and considered where to begin. He decided to start with the question that was most important to know.

"Where am I?" He croaked wincing at how raw his throat was. His mouth felt like he'd been chewing on sandpaper all night.

"You're in my house in the south point." The boy answered shifting restlessly against the sheets. Arthur noticed his ankles were also bound with silver bells and frowned a little at the sight.

South point...wasn't that where the slums were? He looked around the tiny room with new eyes and felt something uncomfortable build in his stomach. He had to get out of here.

"Where're my clothes?" He asked when he recalled that his current state of undress made that kind of impossible.

"By the stove," His host stated waving vaguely towards something just out of his line of sight. "I figured you didn't want to sleep in 'em after last night so..." Ah, so here they were arriving at the question Arthur dreaded the answer to.

"W-we didn't...t-that is you and I haven't...do I?-"Arthur stammered going so red he looked ready to explode. "Bollocks, this isn't easy is it?"

"I'm not following you." The boy replied, seeming confused.

"Did we...sleep...t-together?" Arthur finally managed, wincing at the thought. The young man suddenly looked very appalled and serious; he reached for his spectacles on the bedside table and put them on instantly appearing much older.

"You make a very serious allegation sir," He stated gravely. "What kind of man do you take me for?" Arthur's stomach dropped further.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't...I meant no o-offence...t-that is to say..." Arthur paused in his embarrassed stuttering when he realised his host was laughing.

"You should see your face," The boy wheezed between laughs. "Relax, I won't sell you out, it's a free country after all. Besides if I were really angry I'd've just punched you or had you carted off to a camp somewhere or something."

Arthur didn't know what to say. His first reaction was to get angry, which he did, and immediately kicked the boy from the bed.

"Hey!" He shouted getting up with a clamour of sound. "What's your deal?"

"It serves you right," Arthur sniffed. "Talking to a gentleman that way."

"Gentleman? When I brought you here you were dead drunk," The boy stated in an obviously darker mood. "I saved your life, you're lucky."

"I could have handled myself," Arthur snipped. Whatever trouble he had been in was certainly better than dealing with this...American. His host looked sceptical but said nothing more about it.

"I didn't mean anything by it," He pouted, "I mean if you _are_-"

"-You are out of line sir," Arthur cut in primly trying his damndest not to blush any more than he was. They lapsed into an awkward silence clearly at a loss as to what to say after that humiliating debacle.

"Y-you'd better get dressed," The boy muttered picking at his worn boots. "I'm late for work and you don't know your way out..." Arthur nodded awkwardly and did so in silence.

The boy walked him through the grimy streets of south point and back to the city centre without as much as a word.

They shifted uncomfortably as they reached the towering engine console that dominated their surroundings and stared pointedly at anything but each other.

"Thank you," Arthur burst out when he couldn't take the silence anymore. "For everything, forgive my impropriety this morning I-"

"-Don't worry about it," The boy grinned waving off his apology. "It was no big deal. You know your way from here right?" Arthur nodded and the boy stuck his hands into his leather duster's pockets and spun around quickly.

"See ya around I guess," He said with a shrug and an easy smile. Arthur watched him disappear into the crowd and strained to hear the jingle of bells over the roar of the engines long after he was gone from sight. For some reason he felt bitterly disappointed, like he had been cheated. It didn't occur to him until he was back at the inn and surrounded by his anxious crewmates that he didn't even know the young man's name.

33**3**33

Silver and emeralds. That had been what had first caused him to stop. The flash of silver from the rings in his ears in the low light of the streetlamps and the way his bright eyes glittered back at him like gems from the dark of the alley drew him to the man.

His cocksure grin as they faced a group of drunken sailors was intoxicating; the easy grace of his movements as he saw them off was like nothing he'd ever seen before. He was enchanted. That man was unlike anyone he'd ever met...

"Alfred?" A voice cut into his thoughts. His big brother Matthew was blinking down at him through his goggles wiping coal dust from his grimy face.

"Sorry Matt," He said sheepishly getting back to work. "I was lost there for a minute." He shook his head and tried to put his mind to back to work on the problem he'd set for himself that day: persuading Dr Rickby's beat up old Hummingbird that a smoother steam dilation would benefit all, but his thoughts were still on his captivating impromptu houseguest.

"What's with you?" He heard his brother ask from inside the belly of the battered old beast. "Your thoughts are on everything but the birds today." Alfred reached into his work belt for his own goggles and smiled knowing Matt couldn't see him.

"S'nothing," He sighed as he reached for his blow torch and beat a warning against the side of the plane for his brother. "Just a weird morning I guess." Matthew hauled himself out of the plane and dropped down next to him to help pry off the offending panel looking concerned.

"Was it...was it a bad night?" Matt whispered stealing a nervous glance at the business office and lowering his voice so that the others in the shop couldn't overhear.

"No, Mattie, no its nothing like that don't worry," Alfred said quickly shooting his brother a fake reassuring grin. He kept his voice down and bit back a bitter comment. "I just...ran into someone...interesting."

Interesting, that was certainly a word to describe the sailor. Alfred could still see his eyes, deep and dark and green as limes, underneath his ridiculously thick eyebrows, he grinned to himself.

"Interesting?" Matthew repeated wryly. "Interesting how?"

How could he explain? How could he explain watching him beat four angry airmen twice his size with nothing but his fists when he was too drunk to stand up straight? How could he explain his eyes, fever bright and scared, only seconds after; how they had caught the scarce light and sparkled like jewels and shone with sadness? What could he say about the hoops and studs in his ears, the compass rose on his shoulder, the scars on his hands that would really capture his appeal?

It had been almost primal, the need to protect the man. He had held his ground against impossible odds and won but looked ready to break at any moment. He looked so lonely; Alfred had needed to do something for him...

"Alfred? I lost you again didn't I?" Matt said with a slight laugh. Alfred grinned at him and turned back to the plane.

"So, where'd you meet this interesting person?" Matthew smiled as he reached for a crowbar. Alfred wasn't sure he wanted to explain anymore, but his brother was looking at him expectantly.

"Near the Red Queene," He replied with a shrug. "There was some trouble and I had to help out."

"Always the hero," Matthew chuckled. "So then what?" Alfred cringed and scratched the back of his neck ruefully.

"I took him home," He said with a nervous grin. The smile slipped from his brother's face.

"It wasn't like that! He was drunk; he needed a place to crash!" He stated quickly before his brother could get a word in. "I took him to the square this morning, nobody saw I swear."

"You have to be more _careful_ Al!" His brother hissed, "It's bad enough with _**him,**_ you don't need to call attention to _yourself_!" They both shot a look towards the office and lowered their voices further.

"I _am_ careful," Alfred whispered, "I haven't been caught yet right?"

"What am I going to do if they send you to the camps?" His brother whispered back furiously. "I'm supposed to take care of you!" Alfred shuddered, he had been branded sure, but it wouldn't come to that.

"Don't worry about me Mattie," He stated firmly beginning his work on the plane. "I won't let that happen." Matthew stared at him for a moment and pushed a hand through his hair with a longsuffering sigh.

"Call me when you're through." He muttered and walked off to work on something else. Alfred felt a stab of guilt for blowing his brother off and making him worry but what could he do? Besides he really _was_ being careful, and he'd blown it with the airman anyways, he'd never see him again. A pity, he didn't even know his name...

There was a crackle as a radio flared to life in the office. Alfred sighed and busied himself with the plane. He saw Matthew and the others doing the same out of the corner of his eye. There was a tense silence as they awaited the inevitable.

The door to the office flew open a few minutes later and their "employer" Red Wilson stormed into their midst. Alfred's hands clenched involuntarily around his torch as he walked past; he would've given just about anything to knock the man down a peg or two, but he kept his head down for his brother's sake.

"Alright," Red hissed, "Which one of ya miserable ingrates did it?" The question was met with confused silence. Everyone shifted nervously and waited for him to elaborate. "I just got off with the Harbour master; apparently several ships had parts stolen last night, which one of ya did it?"

"What makes you think it was one of us?" Someone finally asked. It was a pretty valid question; their port wasn't exactly known for its law abiding citizens; anyone could've stolen from the docks.

"The parts that were stolen were boiler funnels and such," Red sneered. "Those're complicated; someone has to know what they're lookin' for and how to get it off. We're the only shop at port, and _I_ didn't take them so it has to be one of _you_ so fess up!" He grabbed the nearest body and sent it sprawling into the dirt. Everyone went deathly still as he continued to rage. "Which one of ya did it?" He snarled. "Tell me or I'll beat every one of ya black and blue 'till I find out!"

Alfred had had enough. He dropped his tools back into his belt and stood protectively in front of the frightened mechanics. Matt groaned as Red narrowed his eyes at him.

"Stand aside brat." He growled. Alfred didn't back down, he was afraid of him sure, but he wasn't about to let him threaten them like that.

"We didn't do it," He stated calmly. "That could've been anybody; it could've been pirates for all we know."

"Pirates?" Red sneered, "'the hell would _pirates_ need with flight equipment? Naw, I know it was one of your sorry lot that did it tryin' to escape or make a buck. Get outta my way brat, or I'll put it on _you_."

"What makes you so sure I didn't do it?"Alfred murmured trying a different tactic. "I've run before."

"I see what you're doin' here Alfred but it won't work,' Red smirked. "I got a fat stack of bills on my desk that says you were otherwise...engaged at the time." Alfred fought off a humiliated blush at his smug knowing look and narrowed his eyes in challenge.

"It still could've been anyone; I'm not letting anyone go down for this." He stated stubbornly. Red sighed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Alrighty brat, if that's how ya wanna play...I'm puttin' the damages on your debt," The older man stated. "That's two more years Alfred." Alfred squeezed his eyes shut at the prospect. That would make seven; seven more years of this, he'd probably never get out...

"Yeah...I know." He sighed at last. What could he do? He was a hero; nobody was going to be unjustly punished while he was around.

Red tried to look less delighted than he did stern and failed miserably at it.

"Alright then, have it your way," He chuckled and motioned for Alfred to follow him. "Everyone else get back to work, y'all are off the hook."

Alfred slumped and followed him up the stairs to the office without a word. He signed the new contract mutely and got back to work. Matthew was waiting for him by the plane. His eyes were wet but Alfred didn't call attention to it.

"Sorry Mattie," He whispered. His brother was silent and continued his work on the plane.

Alfred had been a slave his whole life, the collars were a part of his person as far back as he could remember. He had never known freedom but he had never broken and at nineteen he craved it just as desperately as he had at fifteen and twelve and as far back as he could recall to when he turned of age and the first of his collars was locked on.

For his half brother Matthew the collars were a relatively new development. Matthew had a last name, Matt had a father; Alfred was a bastard, his last name 'Jones' was given to all who shared his disgrace. Matthew had been born to the lady of the house; Alfred had been born to her maid. They were close though, despite everyone's best efforts to keep them apart, close enough for Matthew to search for him when he was sold at ten to a group of travellers as a horse hand, close enough to keep looking until he found and sprung him years later from a doomed brothel destined for the Re-education camps in Europe.

They had been forced to run then, and had ended up catching a ferry to the old port where no one would think twice about a couple of young hands looking for work. They had lied to get a job at the engine yard, but they were fast learners and good listeners, that was three years ago.

Now they really were the mechanics they'd claimed to be, Matthew was almost an engineer. They were valuable, too valuable, and Alfred was careless. He'd wandered out in the yard one time without a shirt; someone had seen his registry tag and called him in for the reward.

Being male in the profession he'd found himself in as a boy was a crime, whether it was against your will or not, they were hunted down to be shipped off all the time and the bounty could be pretty enticing in a desperate old place like this. The bribe it'd taken to convince the man not to turn him in had been hefty.

Red had paid it for Matthew in return for a signed contract detailing that he would pay him back in service at the shop. Alfred had signed into it to cut the debt in half. Red had them both by the balls; he kept adding to the debt, it had become pretty clear that they (or at least Alfred) would never get out from under him.

Lately he had forced Alfred back into his old profession to help relieve some of their debt. He kept as much from his brother as he could but in the right circles there were rumours of him all over town.

Alfred fought it, he fought Red who was a bully and a thief, he fought his 'clients' who were disgusting and cruel, and he fought the system that would keep so many beaten and oppressed without any remorse. The more he fought the more debt he accumulated. He felt guilty for ruining his brother's life, but he couldn't stop being who he was, he wouldn't stop fighting for what was right.

Provided nothing went wrong Matthew was free to go in two more years. Alfred felt damned and awful because his brother wouldn't leave him after everything they'd been through.

Even now he seemed to be looking for something to say that would clear the air between them.

"I heard the _Heart_'s been spotted in the area," He said quietly after a moment. Alfred perked up at the news. He was a proud patriot (despite his circumstances, the Americas were the only place in the world slaves had any sort of rights anyways) but he was always interested in sightings of the world-famous pirate ship and her mysterious phantom crew.

"Really? Where?" He asked leaning towards his brother eagerly. Matt smiled at his excited grin forgetting their miserable situation for a moment in the face of such an earnest joy.

"Last I heard she was seen on the north forty third," He answered. Alfred had an affinity for maps. He had flown planes before he'd learned how to fix them, and could still calculate coordinates in his head.

"That's only a week off from here!" He grinned. That was exciting; he could only imagine what sort of adventures the crew was having!

"Yeah," Matthew laughed in response. He recounted the story he'd heard at the market yard earlier that week.

Alfred was, as always, the perfect audience. His eyes grew wide at the thought of the _Heart_ surrounded by imperial planes and he gasped when his brother mentioned the close-call with the nearby war-ship. He all but cheered when his brother admitted the ship managed to slip away once again and grinned at how baffled everyone was that the ship got away from such an airtight trap.

"I don't get why the Empires are so set on catching pirates nowadays anyways," Alfred grumbled as his brother finished the story and they both got back to work. "There have always been pirates, and there always _will_ be pirates as long as there's trade and taxes."

"Things are lookin' bad in Europe right now is all," One of their co-workers cut in having heard their conversation. "They need somethin' ta distract people with." Old Bill, the serviceman Red seemed to keep around just for his take on political gossip nodded wearily.

"I hear the Krauts want ta go ta war 'gainst Ol'Rome," He wheezed, "S'just a matter o' time 'til they find an excuse now."

"Who'd pick a fight with Rome?" Matt snorted. "There's an old dog that still got sharp teeth. You won't come out of that fight in one piece." Alfred had to agree. True, Old Rome wasn't half the empire it had been before it lost against Britain and the rest but it was still a strong presence in Europe, with a vicious army to match.

"They say Germany's got somethin' up its sleeve though, somethin' dangerous," He heard someone mutter. "They're bringin' a _wolf_ to that dog fight make no mistake, they're gunnin' fer land."

"S'why pirates are dangerous," Old Bill rasped. "They ain't on no sides; you don't want nothin' in the skies like that when yer about to go inta a war like this 'un. Pirates kin' break an empire fer a price; lookit' ol'Spain. Them limeys an' Ol'Rome kin feel the wind changin', they wanna clear the ring a'fore they put their dogs in; s'what I think at least."

Alfred and Matthew exchanged glances. The sudden change from airy light-hearted conversation about the _Heart_ to sour thoughts of war left them both with quite a lot to think about.

"Well, we've got nothin' in this fight, not even bets, so let 'em kill each other if that's wha' they want ta do," Riley, the first man who had intruded into the conversation grumbled. "S'long as they leave us outta it they kin do wha' they like."

Everyone seemed to agree with this statement and they all nodded and went back to work. Alfred was thoughtful, it was true that he didn't always get things right when it came to the short term or social situations, but he was astonishingly good when it came to the long term and he could see the flaw in that statement _very_ clearly.

If the two largest empires in the west went against Germany and its allies, no matter who won the world would change. War was messy and expensive, America wouldn't be able to stay away from it, even if all they did was sell arms or manufacture ships they would get involved and that would make them an enemy of _someone_. This wouldn't be just another long war in Europe; this would be a war for the world...

"What's the matter with you?" Matthew asked when he realised his brother hadn't gone back to work. "You look like you have a huge headache."

"M'just thinking," He murmured.

"Well that explains it I guess," His brother chuckled under his breath.

"Hey!-"

All thoughts of war left his mind as he chased his brother through the shop dodging obstacles and people along the way. War could be looming on the horizon but for the two young men in the old shop in the sleepy old port it was unlikely anything would ever change.

**33**3**33**

"Tell me I'm awesome!" Gilbert grinned dropping a mug in front of Arthur's still aching head.

"Why the hell would I ever do that?" Arthur groaned miserably. To his sensitive ears the mug might as well have been cannon fire. He lifted his head a bit from where it was pressed against the table to peer inside.

"Why've you given me a mug of cat-sick?" He asked too misreable to be very angry.

"S'not puke it's a hangover remedy," Gilbert stated with a wave of his hand. "But seriously, ask me why I'm awesome."

"Fine, please enlighten me as to why you have been overcome by these new delusions of grandeur." Arthur sighed as he reached for the mug's handle.

"Ouch Kirky and after all I've done for you." Gilbert pouted.

"What've you done?" Arthur asked instantly suspicious. Gilbert's schemes frequently ended with them fleeing for their lives or on fire, sometimes both, he had a good reason to be nervous.

"Heh, well after you disappeared and I ditched the other two lightweights I went to this other place and met these awesome-"

"-Please tell me I'm not going to have to sit through another one of your conquest stories," Arthur cut in with a groan. "Just because I can't run away doesn't mean I don't want to."

"I was going to say 'awesome airmen' if you'd let me finish," Gilbert sighed dramatically. Arthur was a bit sceptical but let him continue. "So anyways we shot the shit and I totally drank 'em under the table because I am way more awesome than they are-"

"Of course," Arthur snorted.

"Hey, shut up a minute and listen, they told me the _Heart_ was spotted in the area," Gilbert finished. "If _they_ know we're out here, where's the first place the Reds are going to come look?"

Shit.

"We can't get out, the _Heart_'s grounded, she's in no shape to fly!" Arthur hissed feeling the headache build against his temples. If the empire came looking for them here they'd have nowhere to run!

Gilbert grinned at his panicked expression and leaned back against his chair looking utterly smug.

"See, this is why I'm awesome." He smirked.

"I don't follow." Arthur stated furrowing his brow. As far as he could see nothing about the situation was even remotely "awesome", especially not Gilbert.

"Well, after I deduced the same thing I didn't panic like a girl for one," The Prussian teased. "I came here, got Vash and Liz and Roddy, and came up with a plan."

"A plan? I thought you were drunk." Arthur frowned.

"I was boss, but Bacchus is a great muse," Gilbert stated tapping his head. "Stay with me here, we disguised the ship and started repairs on her. Now she looks like she was caught in a storm instead of caught in a storm and then blown to shit by Imperial ships. Now she'll blend right in when she goes in for repairs."

"Where did you get the parts?" Arthur asked.

"We uh, borrowed them from some of our neighbours," Gilbert chuckled. "We got it all under control. Nobody saw us; we were just about finished when you dragged your ass back in this morning, and Francis sent Toni out to look for shops just before you came in. He's out figuring out where the mechanics are on this dump as we speak."

Oh.

Well...

That was...rather brilliant really.

"I have to say Gilbert, I'm surprised," Arthur murmured. "That is actually a very good idea."

"I know, I'm awesome right?" Gilbert preened. Arthur rolled his eyes and got to his feet. He wanted to see his ship but he felt he should get out of the day before's grimy clothes before doing so. Gilbert rolled his eyes right back at the captain's "British Sensibilities".

"Where'd you go last night anyway?" He asked following as Arthur tottered back to his (as of yet unused) room. "We went looking for you and couldn't find you anywhere."

Arthur stiffened and swung away from him.

"I got a little lost," He stated with an awkward shrug. "I ended up somewhere in the southpiont."

"South point?" Gilbert hissed through his teeth. "That's a rough neighbourhood, nothing but crooks and hookers out there, you're lucky you weren't mugged. -Heh, that'd be pretty funny, a _pirate_ getting _mugged_- you're lucky though, someone's really watching out for you Kirky."

"Yes," Arthur replied absently thinking of forget-me-not eyes and a bright grin. "Lucky..." He blushed and shook the thought away feeling rather foolish and immensely guilty. Gilbert eyed him suspiciously but let him escape into his room without comment.

He ought to be ashamed, he told himself as he stripped to bathe, after everything that had happened. There was no use dwelling on his encounter at any rate. The boy was long gone; there was no chance of ever seeing him again.

He bathed, attempted to comb his hair (its current singed state was making it more unreasonable than usual), and changed into more comfortable street clothes before donning his favourite coat (also singed but expertly repaired by Arthur himself) and heading out to face his crew.

They were less than thrilled with his disappearance the night before but luckily they were used to his bizarre and erratic behaviour while drunk and didn't ask him too many questions. Even when not drunk he was known to disappear and reappear in the morning; this whole thing was not altogether uncommon.

Francis and Gilbert eyed him oddly as he inspected the work on the _Heart_. She looked amazing, like a completely different ship, but he could hardly concentrate on her with their curious eyes regarding him while he paced about.

"What!" He hissed when he could no longer stand it. "What is wrong with you two?"

"Nothing." They said in unison with twin knowing smirks.

"Are you sure there is nothing wrong with **you** _mon_ _cher_?" Francis asked. "You've been a bit...distracted since you arrived." Had he? Oh bollocks. His thoughts had been drifting towards that stupid American all day. Had they noticed?

"I'm fine," Arthur growled in a clear warning for them to stop while they were ahead. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Thankfully Antonio arrived and announced he had found the repair yard so he didn't have to defend himself any further.

Arthur wanted to go right away to see its owner, but he restrained himself and made sure all the necessary repairs were made on the disguised ship and that everyone's stories of her corroborated before setting off with Francis and Roderich in tow.

Much to Arthur's delighted amazement, the repair yard on the old port was surprising up-to-date and relatively clean which made him feel much better about leaving his beloved ship in its care.

The main office was empty so they loitered by the steps and looked around trying to spot the owner amidst the dozens of slaves busily scurrying to and fro intent on their tasks.

They were obviously skilled but they seemed shy and nervous; none of them stopped to ask them anything though a few eyed them warily as they walked past.

"They're frightened of us," Francis sighed. "We will not get anywhere at this rate." He stopped the nearest available slave and gave him his most charming smile. "Pardon us, we do not mean to interrupt, but we are looking for the master of this ship yard."

"The master's in the back fixin' planes today sir," The slave murmured. "I'd come back if I was you, he's in a foul temper." Francis thanked him and let him go back to his business.

"What do you think?" He asked turning to Arthur. "Should we come back?"

"Dealing with him now might mean higher prices," Roderich mused aloud, "_If_ he decides to see us at all..."

Arthur sighed and weighed his options. He was anxious to leave the port; he wanted to put some distance between the _Heart_ and her pursuers and he didn't like being on separatist land; nevertheless, he had to do what was best for the _Heart_...

"Perhaps we should drop by later." He sighed.

Just then they heard the telltale sputter of an engine roaring to life followed by a loud boom like a cannon going off. The bay they were in was suddenly filled with smoke and shrapnel causing everyone to scatter in panic. Arthur heard several loud voices cut through the haze.

"Oh shit, I am so dead."

"_**JONES**_!"

"Run Al!"

Arthur coughed and tried to see what was happening through the smoke and the noise. He felt something solid crash into him sending him toppling into Francis.

"Ouch! Watch where you're going you twit!" He snarled trying to untangle himself from the sudden mess of limbs he found himself in.

"Move it Limey, if I don't get out of here in the next thirty seconds I'm dead!" The new voice growled shoving him roughly in an attempt to get free. Something about it sounded oddly familiar...

The smoke slowly cleared away to reveal a sooty face and familiar pair of bright blue eyes. Arthur couldn't believe what he was seeing, but there was no mistaking that face, even covered in soot as it was. It was the boy!

He felt his chest squeeze in shock; the boy stared back at him in equal surprise.

"You?-"

"You?"

"**YOU**!"

The boy was abruptly yanked back by his collar and dragged upright coughing and wheezing by the most enormous and furious man Arthur had ever seen in his life

"**I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU YA SCATTERBRAINED **_**BRAT**_!" The man roared shaking him roughly about. "**I'M GONNA BEAT THE **_**TAR**_** OUTTA YA! YER GONNA REGRET THE DAY YOU WAS **_**BORN**_** FER THIS!**"

The boy scrabbled weakly at his collar in the burly man's fist and stood on the tips of his toes to keep from choking as he was held aloft.

He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the inevitable blow as the man's other hand curled into a fist. Clearly he anticipated it to hurt.

Arthur saw red and jumped up to stop the man's hand before it could land a blow. He caught the surprised man's punch and twisted his hand until the pain caused him to loosen his hold on the boy before kicking him in the gut and sending him sprawling into the dirt.

"Don't you _**dare**_," He hissed dangerously at the man's prone form. "come anywhere near him."

He turned to look at the boy whose big blue eyes were wide with disbelief. Francis and Roderich were just behind him watching on in shock.

Their stunned horrified faces suddenly made everything snap back into perspective: He was the infamous captain of a crippled ship stuck behind enemy lines, and he had just threatened his only chance of getting out to save a slave he hardly knew.

Arthur groaned and mentally kicked himself for the huge mess he'd just made. Some days, he really, really hated this life.


End file.
